The Second Hand
by Pied Piper
Summary: Betrayed by the people closest to them, two once bitter foes must join together against a greater enemy. When secrets begins to unravel, the pair will discover that the quest for peace is not as easy as the quest for truth...or for love. [AU/Fantasy]
1. Taichi

**The Second Han**

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**Summary**: The one thing the leader of an underground resistance movement hadn't counted on was falling in love with the woman who could ruin it all.

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_**Author's Note**: I discovered some old story attempts and decided to try at creating something new. I hope you'll bear with me; I'm excited to start writing fantasy epics again, and I hope to reward you well for your time and support. Thanks for reading._

* * *

He could see that she had been crying.

Her lips trembled and her hands shook when he first entered, and he heard the broken greeting forced from her quivering mouth in an unstable voice. They stood now in antechamber, a small sitting room. In front of them, through another set of tall ornate doors, was the main bedroom, lined with heavily curtained floor-to-ceiling windows. He could see an antique fireplace carved into a beautifully tapestried wall opposite a large, canopied bed, which took up the majority of the space. Gaze sweeping over the elaborate rooms quickly, he walked into the main chamber, seating himself on the edge of the luxuriously pillowed mattress, his back to her. He could hear her staggered breathing, the soft hiccups in her voice.

Absentmindedly, he ran a thumb over the ring on his left hand, contemplating its foreignness. He'd been feeling for it obsessively since the ceremony. They'd said he would, as a newlywed.

After a long moment, he stood up and turned to her, knowing something had to be said, now that they were finally alone, meeting at last.

Her gaze immediately dropped to the floor and she took a deep, steadying breath before beginning to move so mechanically and habitually that he knew she'd been advised, trained, and readied carefully for this exact moment, the only moment that mattered for her new office as a bride.

As she pulled the neck of the nightgown over her left shoulder, revealing a freckled skin and a young untouched breast, he said suddenly, "Stop."

Her puffy, red eyes were wide.

"I…I will say it was done. And you will as well. Do you understand?"

She nodded.

He strode quickly to the adjoining sitting room before she could say a word and he could change his mind. Without looking at her, he whispered, "Good night." Just before the interior doors closed, he heard the sound of her collapsing onto the floor by the bed in exhausted relief, sobbing.

He lay on his side on the chaise in the sitting room, playing all night with the strange new accessory on his finger, restless, listening to her pace back and forth in her room. In the morning, he rose quickly. When he knocked on her door, she answered almost immediately, dressed as well. Her face was no longer blotchy; now she was calm, though still pale. There were no greetings exchanged this time. Instead he moved past her towards the bed, crumpling the covers before sitting on the edge of it again, as he had last night. She remained standing and, when he nodded at her, rapped her knuckles once on the door to the bedchamber.

The servants came in, along with his secretary and her doctors. He did not wait for the results of the examination but gestured for the secretary to follow behind as he left the rooms to return to his own.

This nightly ritual would continue, interrupted only when he began taking prolonged weekend trips abroad.

The trips turned into days, then weeks, then months.

And, finally, years.

* * *

"You are making me late."

"Do you want to leave?"

"You know I never want to leave...but making a habit of tardiness does present its own difficulties."

"Are you suggesting that your reputation is more important than being here with me?"

"It absolutely is."

"Well, that is disappointing."

"Have I hurt your feelings?"

"Yes," moaned the woman.

He grinned into her neck. "If you think that hurts, then wait for this."

The door of her suite slammed open.

The woman shrieked in surprise, then immediately covered her mouth with both hands to silence herself as footsteps sounded in the adjoining sitting room. The man lurched to his feet, equally startled. He looked about desperately, and she silently gestured towards the bed. He dove under the frame just as the door to interior suite opened.

Lord Yagami Taichi walked into his wife's main bed chamber that morning for the first time in nearly fourteen months.

He barely glanced over the area, instead choosing to stop at the entrance to the door, clothed in the formal traveling uniform of an experienced military officer. He stood with his heels together and bowed shortly out of respect, but his behavior was uninviting and emotionless. A soldier since his youth, he had been trained to be unreadable, and she had always regarded his guarded, expressionless manner as such. She couldn't remember the last time he'd shown any familiar personal emotion towards her, if ever a moment had existed at all.

Before Lady Yagami Mimi could speak, he said, "We've been invited to His Majesty's winter castle for the fortnight. We will be leaving at sunrise. I have instructed your maidservants to pack your furs."

Whatever embarrassment she had before was now replaced by surprise.

She pulled herself up in the bed with a frown, pushing stray strands of chestnut brown hair from her face. "A fortnight? For what reason?"

"For the reason that he is the king," replied Taichi coldly.

Her back straightened and her eyes show defiantly at his tone. "You cannot walk unannounced into my quarters and order such changes without forewarning." She struggled out from under the covers and blankets on the bed, pulling her dressing robes closed in front of her, rising to her feet.

"I will walk where I choose in my own home," snapped Taichi, "and the members of my household will do as I say."

"How dare you speak to me like that!"

He was unfazed.

Instead, he called loudly, voice still cool, "Sir Willis, if you would kindly give the Lady privacy to prepare for departure."

She shut her eyes in disbelief.

Humiliated, the man crawled out from under the bed. He ran a nervous hand through his blond hair and briefly met the woman's gaze, then turned on his heel and walked through the door, being careful not to brush against his master as he passed him. In the hallway, he stopped to bow but Taichi did not respond in kind.

Then Taichi glanced into the room again, catching his wife's red-faced gaze.

He smirked, tauntingly.

But before she could react, he had already shut the door.

She shrieked and collapsed face-first onto her mattress. Just a moment later, the doors opened again, but she heard instead the movements of her maidservants, busying with the morning routines with extra fuss and attention to include travel preparations. They took care not to disturb her in her furious wallowing, something that had also become a bit of a routine, but only on the mornings when the master of the castle returned from another trip.

"He's a tyrant," Mimi mumbled into her pillows as one of the maidservants gently eased the sheets from under her, gathering them up to launder.

"You mustn't speak of His Lordship in such a way, milady," said the younger girl in a whisper.

"I'm not speaking of him. I mean the king."

The maidservant gasped, "My Lady, you must not speak of the king in such a-!"

"Oh, Miyako, do stop with these exclamations." She slowly stood, shoulders hunched in defeat at her fate for the next two weeks. She thought of king's mountain castle, its frozen landscape familiar to her from her youth, and shivered in both fury and fear.

No, she thought to herself sternly, raising her chin as the maidservants began to undress her for her bath and laid out new travelling robes for the long journey. Do not go down that path again. Never again.

* * *

Izumi Koushiro, the Lord's private secretary, was waiting by the window when his master reentered his private suite.

The older man glanced at him but didn't speak until he'd removed his coat, moving to the chaise to examine the cartons of luggage the servants had only recently carried in from his arrival home earlier that morning. That was part of Koushiro's office, to ensure that his master's movements were so seamless that no discomfort appeared without expected cause and no minor alterations would distract. It was a quality of his work and expertise that Taichi knew he could never find in another. It was difficult to find a man in whom one could trust so completely one gave the alternative no thought, and Taichi was aware that Koushiro was remarkable.

But he certainly could do without the additional, and wordless, observations that accompanied most of their private interactions.

"Do not start," said Taichi, sensing one of those same knowing glances now from his trusted secretary.

Koushiro, as usual, remained silent, turning back to stare out the windows.

Taichi sighed in exasperation. "The entire council is gathering."

"I know, sir."

"It would be unacceptable to not make an appearance if everyone has been summoned, after so many years."

"I know, sir."

"I could not avoid it ."

"I know, sir."

Taichi paused, glaring at him. "I really despise you, Izumi."

"I know, sir."

Taichi sat down on the far end of the chaise, staring down at the floor. He said in a low voice, "I know where your heart is, Koushiro. Mine is there also. This trip changes nothing, not if we are careful in our actions and words."

Koushiro nodded.

Taichi leaned back, thoughtful, his thumb automatically running over the wedding band on his left hand as his brow furrowed in concentration. "Is she the wild card, then? I could not make excuses for her absence. The council would have wondered too much about it if I did not bring her."

"There are ways to keep her under control," said Koushiro vaguely, and Taichi smirked again, amused as he thought of his wife's infamous exploits and the charade they all played. He relished in the idea that she thought she was clever.

"If, of course, Sir Willis is available for the journey."

"I will see that he is, sir." Koushiro made to leave the suite, then paused again. His face was determined. "The resistance is already at hand, my lord. We are with you."

Taichi nodded wordlessly, chest tightening with unspoken worry.

He waited until Koushiro had left the rooms before quickly moving to his desk, pulling open the bottom most drawer to lift a folded parchment from deep inside its contents. In the privacy of the room, his back to the wall in the one corner without access to window or door, he unfolded the letter in hands that did not tremble the way his heart pounded in his own chest.

_Be brave, be courageous, be fearless. _  
_My love is yours. _  
_ST _

Taichi held the letter-the last he'd received from the baroness, the only one he'd had kept, the one last shred of evidence that she was indeed still alive, somewhere-in his hands for a long moment.

His mind tore through memories of years past, of another lifetime it seemed, a life that was so different from the one he led now, the work he had started all for this reason.

Now was the time to take no risks.

Taichi could not let all this work be wasted in foolish loose ends or a slip in performance.

There could be nothing to endanger their work now.

With a heavy feeling in his chest, he refolded the letter and walked to the fireplace, crouching in front of the flames. He placed the letter in the heart of the fire, watching it burn.

He knew this would happen someday, that this was his true test. He knew the rumblings underground, in the networks they'd worked so hard to maintain, this opposition so carefully groomed in utmost secrecy. They spoke of a break, a betrayal, a possibility of failure and retribution. He had been careful not to give these rumors and fears much credence, until the summon to arrive at the king's castle with the rest of the lord's council. They had all been summoned, an occasion that was unusual, particularly in the dead of winter.

Taichi knew it had to be for one reason.

Those rumors were true, someone had discovered that the feelings of opposition to the king's reign were widespread and growing, had suspected how high it ran among even the king's lords. This council gathering was just a guise, a test. The king knew.

King Ishida Yamato was not a fool.


	2. Koushiro

**The Second Hand**

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**Summary**: A journey begins in secrecy and leads to betrayal, all in the name of love. [AU/Fantasy]

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To travel to King Ishida's winter castle was no small ordeal.

The elongated shape of the country's landmass left only two options for the Lord and Lady of the East, whose land occupied the far eastern moors and was separated from the rest of the kingdom by a small mountainous range and an enormous, landlocked body of water. Considering their choices, Lord Taichi had decided travelling by land would take too long, since this required slowly navigating their way around the bank. He was also certain that travelling by a ground procession left them open to weak security, particularly along the sparsely inhabited coastlines that they would have had to pass through if they had chosen this route.

The other option was to travel by water.

The great lake was temperamental, particularly in winter. But crossing its waters would be a more direct journey than traversing around its snowy banks, and so Taichi had notified the king's counsel, his younger brother the Prince Takeru, by letter that they would be arriving by ship. Separately, Taichi went on to make arrangements that Koushiro would travel ahead of them to the harbor to secure the Lord's ship and prepare it and its crew for a potentially rough voyage.

Koushiro rose just a few hours before dawn, when the Lord's party was scheduled to depart, and began the short trip to the harbor on horseback. He brought with him Sir Willis, who after recent events demonstrated a great eagerness to obey any command on behalf of his employer. Koushiro wisely left the reason for this behavior alone, but it was mostly due to his lack of interest in the affair than any sense of insult or desire to keep rumors quiet. Koushiro's only concern was serving his Lord and attending to the needs of their work. He had absolutely no interest in how the Lady conducted herself. In fact, he very hardly ever spoke to her, and they rarely found themselves in a situation that required conversation. That was how Koushiro preferred it.

Sir Willis was a handsome young man, with skin unusually unscarred for a trained soldier. His features were sharp and noticeable, his blue eyes shocking under a nest of closely cut blonde hair. He was not very tall, perhaps the same height as Koushiro himself, but his slender form belied a strength and agility that had allowed the knight to ascend to his current military rank with great success and skill at swordsmanship.

He was also incredibly talkative.

During their four hour ride to the lake, Koushiro had kept his hardened gaze squarely on the road ahead of them, while his fellow traveller had cheerly narrated several observations and questions about the fortnight's events, questions which Koushiro noticeably did not answer but did not deter Willis in the slightest. It was only when the one-sided conversation turned towards the subject of the Lord's own frequent travels that Koushiro could not keep his irritation quiet any longer.

"Of course, we are all at the ready to serve his lordship at a moment's notice, but it seems to me that retaining a military contingent as large as ours is not so necessary when our lands are not as extensive and our lord is so long absent."

"His Lordship is always able and equipped to advise in the governing of the Eastern moors," grumbled Koushiro at long last.

Willis's brilliant blue eyes glanced at the subdued secretary, who rode beside him on an equally subdued brown mare.

"Naturally, his governance is without question," continued Willis easily, keeping his voice calm and cheerful so as not to demonstrate any surprise at finally getting a response from his silent companion. "Alongside the Lady Mimi's expertise in managing the estates, ours is a very peaceful land."

Koushiro could not prevent his instinctive scoff. "Yes, her expertise in certain matters has certainly assisted in protecting His Lordship's reputation," he said with a sneer.

Willis remained calm at the pointed slight. "Indeed, together they oversee a prosperous land, especially considering the current climate of the kingdom as a whole."

"Your interests should only be with the moors," snapped Koushiro irritably.

"True," said Willis, careful to keep his tone even at another annoyed interruption. "And they are, of course. But as soldiers, it would be remiss to not keep abreast of the news in the other regions. The southern isles, for example, have experienced quite an alarming series of riots and revolts. Since the unrest began, I understand that Lord Inoue and his family have taken up residence in King Ishida's summer fortress to protect themselves. They have been there for over seventeen months now, and the disturbances have still made it unsafe for them to return home."

"Yes, it is most distressing," said Koushiro vaguely, his mind wandering for a moment to the beginnings of that unrest, and the events which had begun the revolt in the southern isles. He was uncomfortable about this subject, and wished again that the knight would hold his tongue.

Willis paused, then asked, "I wonder if Lord Yagami has any plans to make an offering of mediation for Lord Inoue and the isles' constituents."

At that remark, Koushiro stiffened with suspicion. "That is an unusual thought to entertain."

"I only ask because His Lordship is often travelling near the isles, and I thought-,"

"It is none of _your _business how Lord Yagami conducts _his _business while abroad," interrupted Koushiro again.

"I only meant-,"

Koushiro raised his voice, "King Ishida has been very clear on his policy against negotiating with the instigators of the southern rebellion, and only when invited by His Majesty will Lord Yagami intervene on national matters. The King is more than equipped to handle any small crises in the isles. It will do you well, with all your lack of leadership and diplomatic experience, to refrain from giving political advice on matters which you do not understand. Your work is to protect and serve Lord Yagami's land, not counsel his actions outside of them. Remember your place, Sir Willis."

The blond knight was quiet, murmuring a standard apology that Koushiro ignored, his chest tight with worry. Where on earth had Willis gotten his information about the Inoues at the king's summer castle, or his ideas about Taichi journeying there? Koushiro had spent years developing his system of secrecy in their travels, making sure to secure decoy plans or otherwise disguise their work whenever Taichi had to communicate or meet with the rebels from the south. Was this a sign that there was truly a breach in their system, as Taichi feared after hearing of the king's summoning of the council, or was it merely a coincidence that Willis would so innocently bring up this diplomatic cooperation idea between their lands?

Before Koushiro could consider the knight's words any deeper, however, they had arrived at the harbor, and he was soon distracted by another, more glaring and potentially devastating problem:

"Where is the ship?" said Willis loudly, voicing the same question Koushiro had been trying to answer as soon as he had scanned the sails in the bay and not recognized his lord's own.

With a growing knot in his stomach, Koushiro did recognize the bright colors of the king's own ship, a gleaming vessel of enormous girth and pomp, docked where Taichi's usual ship should have been. Standing nearby on the pier, gazing up at the impressive ship and shouting orders at the bustling crew that moved up and down its decks in hurried preparation, was a young man with wild maroon hair and deeply tanned skin weathered greatly from long time spent on the sea in the sun. He was dressed in a rathered old and worn captain's attire, his black boots scuffed and marked, and he gave the impression of being knowledgeable of his trade but not altogether reliable at the same time.

Koushiro dismounted at the edge of the pier, whose activity was bustling with the early morning's maritime work and the unloading and loading of the trade ships that passed through the harbor daily. It was one of the busiest ports in the kingdom, and long since a source of the eastern moors' wealth and profit in trade both domestic and abroad, supplementing a fishing industry that moved with the seasons.

The secretary quickly approached the man in front of the unfamiliar ship."Who are you?"

The man turned around, his eyes brightening happily when he saw Koushiro. "Ah, Secretary Izumi," he gave a short, respectful bow. "It is truly an honor to meet you. You have no reason to worry. We will be ready for the Lord and Lady's departure in yet another hour's time, no more," he concluded with a promise that was evidently meant to relieve any stress on Koushiro's part.

Instead, Koushiro immediately became tense. "Who are you?" he repeated, with a sharp edge to his voice. Willis had dismounted beside him by now, and approached the pair with furrowed brow, his hand near the hilt of his sword and at the ready to protect his master's secretary.

The man bowed again, "Captain Motomiya Daisuke, at your pleasure. I have been hired by His Highness Prince Takeru to escort Lord and Lady Yagami to His Majesty's castle. It is a great honor, I assure you."

Koushiro was astonished, but attempted to hide his surprise. "I was not aware that His Highness had made any such arrangements. I do not believe they are necessary. His Lordship and I have settled our own travel affairs and do not wish to impose on the prince's generosity-,"

"It is no imposition," said Daisuke happily, shaking his head. "His Highness only wanted to extend to Lord Yagami the best of courtesies. It has been so long since the Lord and Lady of the East visited the royal family. The Prince is most anxious that no inconveniences distract your party's exhaustive journey. With my captainship, you will be assured every luxury and comfort, I can promise this on my word."

Koushiro hesitated, beginning to realize what this arrangement really signified. Suddenly, he understood the worries that Taichi had communicated to him only the night before: that the king and his advisors were as suspect of them as Taichi and Koushiro were distrustful of his reign. This was no ordinary escort. This was surveillance.

But there was nothing he could do. He could not return to Lord to warn him, or intercept their arrival to the harbor in time to let Taichi know of this development ahead of time. He could not see where the Lord's own ship had been taken, and did not dare appear questioning of the king's kindness in the presence of this captain, who Koushiro had not heard of by reputation and already distrusted for his seemingly undeterred charm. He could not turn down the invitation, and knew that there was no choice at all, for doing so would be a direct insult to a king who was already closing his hand around the movements of his elusive and absent Lord of the East.

So he smiled through a closed mouth at the beaming captain, and turned to nod at Willis, who had stood silently beside him through the entire conversation. The pair stepped back a few yards from the captain, who returned his attention to directing the men on his ship with the travel preparations.

"What shall we do?" whispered Sir Willis once they were safely out of earshot.

Koushiro wanted to snap at him to stop appearing so guilty and secretive, as he knew they were likely surrounded by the prince's men along with the captain, and that perhaps even the captain's men were actually the royal household's men. He did not know who to trust on the pier, and he had to act as though he trusted them all.

"Ride back on the road and intercept Lord Yagami as fast as you can," Koushiro instructed.

"Yes, sir."

"Tell him what has happened. He cannot arrive here without knowledge of this change. We cannot have him appear the fool or lose face in these arrangements."

"Yes, sir."

"And notify Lady Mimi as well. The last thing we need now is her raising another one of her embarrassing protests to unexpected news. For once she must act the part of the respectful wife, whether she has the right to hold the office of one or not."

"Yes, sir," Willis nodded again, jaw clenched tightly.

Koushiro nodded gravely. "Fine, then. Ride fast."

"I will."

Koushiro turned away-but suddenly felt a sharp pain in the back of his head, and then he saw nothing.

Daisuke turned to glance at the pair of men just in time to see the redheaded man collapse to the ground, unconscious. Sir Willis had sheathed his sword again, his hand still wrapped around the heavy hilt he'd used to strike Koushiro. He glanced up and saw Daisuke staring calmly.

Willis called to him, "You have no idea how long I have been waiting to do that."

"I could not abide any man who spoke so ill of the woman I loved," said Daisuke with a smirk. "I am surprised by how long you restrained yourself."

"It was not easy, I assure you," said Willis with a deep scowl again at the unconscious secretary at his feet. He then stepped over Koushiro's prostrate form and clasped the arm of his good friend warmly, smiling, "It's good to see you, nonetheless."

"That it is," grinned Daisuke, who clapped him on the shoulder. "But we must save time for conversation later."

Willis nodded, signalling for Daisuke's men to attend to Koushiro's unconscious body. A group of them immediately descended the decks of the king's ship, gathering around Koushiro and dragging him off the pier. Willis's blue eyes blazed with delight and determination. "Let's get to work."


	3. Takeru

**The Second Hand**

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**Summary**: At the brink of a civil war, a prince realizes too late that the person standing in the way of saving his kingdom is closer than he could have ever imagined. AU/Fantasy

* * *

An urgent knock stirred the Prince Takeru from his dozing. He immediately snapped straight, blue eyes blinking away the pull of sleep in the still darkened hours before dawn, and moved his head just enough in his chair to glance at the door without turning completely. "What is it?" he asked, stifling a bored yawn.

His manservant bowed and answered, eyes downcast out of respect, "Pardon the early hour, Your Highness, but the ship's sails have been spotted."

Takeru turned so quickly his knee hit the leg of the writing desk and he winced. "When?" he croaked out, rubbing his leg.

"Not an hour past, Your Highness."

The prince stood, stretching almost languidly, as though hearing the news he'd been waiting day and night to hear for the past several days was a nuisance rather than a promising relief. He gave instructions to the boy to send the receiving party to the harbor with provisions and strong guides for the return to the castle.

He waited for the boy's footsteps to fade outside his door, then abandoned his pretense of boredom and apathy, his thin mouth forming a determined frown as he calculated how much time they would have left. They had been blessed with calmer weather this winter: though bitterly cold, the storms had been few and quiet in their intensity, and Takeru ventured that the party would have no severe delays in reaching the castle before midday. It was indeed a relief to consider that this possibility was entirely ensured rather than merely hoped. Of all the summoned lords of his brother's council, the arrival of this last member was the most crucial.

He had been waiting for years to meet him, Lord Ichijoji Ken, governor of the Western plains, and his young bride.

Rumors said that the young Lady Hikari was an astonishingly beautiful woman.

Takeru wanted to find out for himself.

He strode to the tall windows of the study and peered through the glass, squinting into the horizon. A small hint of pale pink glowed at the edge, and the prince guessed that dawn would reach them just as the king's welcoming reception would meet the western lord's arrival party at the harbor. He paused to imagine how the warm, rising day's light would illuminate the fair features of the Lady Hikari, but all he could bring to his mind were the long buried memories of his youth, when he'd first met the young lady. He remembered her childishly round face, her shining brown eyes, how she'd clasped his small pudgy hand in her own as they raced through a palace garden, giggling with innocent glee at their game of hide and seek. Her brother had not been very happy to chase them, but then, Takeru could not remember the Lord Yagami Taichi being happy about anything, even as a child. He had no difficulty in believing that that boy had grown up to become the well groomed and serious military commander he was known to be today.

With a sigh, Takeru left his study and, accompanied by his own protective escort, crossed the castle wings to the eastern rooms, where his brother resided during their winter stays. These were the most secure rooms of the castle, fortified with double the guard posts and equipped to shelter more soldiers and external defenses. They were also the warmest rooms, which Takeru had no trouble constantly reminding his brother as the months grew deeper into winter.

The guards outside the king's bed chambers bowed shortly when the prince passed, though the latter held up a hand when his guard began to enter before him, as customary, to announce his visit. Takeru shook his head and entered the rooms himself without the knight, closing the large door behind him for additional assured privacy.

The rooms were dark and musky, the curtains still drawn tight. Takeru could smell the smoke from a still burning pipe, its strong stench filling his nostrils as soon as he stepped deeper into the room. He crossed from the antechamber into the interior bedchamber, where he was met with a crumpled mess of blankets and sheets, pillows thrown to the floor, the tapestries of the canopied bed pulled halfway around the mattresses. He paused at a small sitting table nearest the door to the interior bedchamber and lit a candle, holding it aloft as he made his way to the bed, stepping over tangled blankets, clothes, and books strewn haphazardly over the carpeted floors.

Without ceremony, Takeru yanked the tapestries aside, waving the candleholder before him threateningly.

The king blinked calmly up at him, lying robeless on his back on the mattress, a smoking pipe between the fingers of his left hand, and a cup of strong alcohol in his right. He blinked again, then slowly raised his right hand, as though deciding this was the lesser vice to offer his dear younger brother.

Takeru shook his head.

"Is that disapproval, or are you turning down a drink?" asked King Ishida Yamato, his voice rough and sore from years of smoking.

"Both," answered the prince, but without a negative tone to his voice. The brothers spoke casually to each other, without judgment. If there was one person Yamato could not disappoint-and could not bear to disappoint-it was Takeru, even though a part of him had long since resigned himself to the fact that he was a disappointment, had been since he first started down this dark addictive path.

The younger man reached over the bed and plucked the pipe from his brother's hand. The latter gave it up willingly, his hand dropping to his side listlessly. He closed his eyes and slid lower into the sheets, spilling a little wine during his sudden movement. He did not seem to notice, or care. His drug-induced apathy rendered him useless for several hours until the effects wore off, as Takeru knew, though the prince was only a handful of people who could confirm the rumors of the king's cruel addiction.

Takeru blew out the smoking pipe and tossed it to the ground, crushing the long stem with the heel of his boot. "You have to get ready. The last of the council is arriving today. The welcome feast is this afternoon, and you must greet them." He leaned forward. "Yamato, are you listening?"

He was answered by a soft and disinterested grunt.

Takeru's voice softened, "Yamato, please."

A long silence, and then, "You would have made a much better king than me."

"That is not true."

"It is. You know it, I know it. Everyone knows it."

"The gods gave you the birthright for a reason."

"Yes, to see the kingdom burn."

Takeru grabbed him by the back of the neck, yanking him up with a surprising strength. He glared at his brother, blue eyes flashing. "No, to _save _it."

Yamato blinked slowly, his vision clouded from the drug's choking haze. His once brilliant blue eyes, much like their mother's, had faded to a dull shade, lifeless and without their usual intoxicating passion. The dark circles around them, the sunken cheeks of his pointed face, his slow and hoarse speech, these were all signs that the brother Takeru had admired so greatly was nearly gone from him, and the fear of losing the last of his family this way made his heart ache.

As though sensing the unspoken fear, Yamato attempted a sad smile.

Takeru suddenly could not stand the pity in his brother's face, nor the pity he felt for the man himself, whether deserved or not. He let go and Yamato sank back down into the mattress once more, staring up at the ceiling of the canopied bed as though in a lost trance.

"Is she really here?" he asked after a long moment.

Takeru nodded, voice low. "Since last night. They have been given a suite in the northwest tower, where the lord's secretary is recuperating from his seasickness. Captain Motomiya says the man experienced quite a strong bout of the illness. He might not be well enough still to attend the feast today. Master Jyou is attending him."

It was clear Yamato had been listening to none of Takeru's attempts to distract his brother from the subject he wanted to talk about. The king said in flat voice, "Bring her to me."

"Yamato," warned the prince carefully, "she is wedded to someone else now."

"What does that matter? I want to see her."

"You will tonight, at the welcome feast. Invite her to dance. You can speak to her then."

Yamato didn't answer, eyes glazed over in another wave of drugged stupor and relaxation. Takeru was not sure the king heard him, but he did not want to bring the conversation back to her again, not when Yamato was dangerously close to this unpredictable mood.

Instead, he patted his brother's shoulder, craftily removing the wine glass from the other's hand as he bent over him with a smile. "I will have breakfast brought to you after a bath. You will feel better in a few hours, and we can discuss the arrangements for the feast afterwards. Jyou wants to discuss the plan for the first council meeting as well."

The king said nothing, his eyes closed again. Takeru hesitated only briefly before leaving him there, stepping back into the antechamber of the bedroom suite and putting the candle he'd been carrying on the table by the door. He took a moment to gather his composure and then quietly reemerged into the hallway, where the king's guards as well as the prince's were standing at attention, in the same still manner in which Takeru had left them. The prince gave instructions to one of the guardsmen to begin the king's morning schedules earlier. He watched the man dutifully leave to pass along the orders.

He rubbed his face tiredly, but there was no time to rest on such an important day. Instead, Takeru ran tired fingers through his thick hair and summoned his escort to follow him to the king's secretary's rooms.

Kido Jyou hailed from a family of healers, but he was also a learned scholar. When the previous king had chosen him for his eldest son and heir's personal secretary, it was with the understanding that he would be equipped to handle not only the daily political pressures of Yamato's responsibilities as ruler, but also his secret health concerns. Insofar as the latter, Jyou had proven his excellence and discretion, yet it was the former where Jyou truly became indispensable to Yamato's administration. Takeru knew this and recognized the benefit of the Kidos close association with the royal family. He often wondered what would have happened if the Kidos had been given governance of one of the provinces. But the proud family had repeatedly and politely declined any honors, choosing independence and autonomy as demonstrations of their loyalty the royal family, rather than a deeded land and formal titles. It had impressed both Takeru and his late father, and perhaps Yamato too, if the latter was ever truly sober enough to consider the issue seriously.

When he got to Kido's private rooms, close to the king's own suite, Takeru was not surprised to see that the secretary was already awake. The only other person in the immediate high level of their government besides Takeru himself who cared as deeply about protecting the family's right to rule was Jyou, and he demonstrated as much by mirroring the prince's exhaustive work schedule. It made things easier for Takeru to know that Jyou was by his side. Somehow, that knowledge made their strange arrangements in preserving Yamato's rule worthwhile, and bearable.

The truth of the matter was that Takeru knew only Jyou believed as strongly as he did that Yamato had the potential to be a great king, to be a real leader. Their kingdom was breaking apart at the seams from these seeds of unrest, fueled most recently by the trouble in the southern isles, but both the prince and the king's secretary were confident in the elder brother's authority, even if the rest of their advising council had their reservations.

Because Jyou recognized in those moments of Yamato's lucidity what Takeru had seen and admired in his brother for as long as he could remember, before this addiction had robbed him of his spirit. The task ahead had been to remind Yamato himself of this, though that was a task that seemed as unlikely as any, especially lately.

Jyou was already dressed for the day when Takeru entered, smiling wordlessly as he looked up from his writing desk. As they were alone, he had dispensed with the formal greetings, which Takeru never minded when it was just the pair of them. The blond prince crossed over to the smoldering fireplace and collapsed into a tall armchair, staring at his good friend.

"He's relapsed."

"I feared as much," said Jyou without a tone of surprise. He shook his head in annoyance. "Why did that bastard lord have to bring her with him?"

"It's been years since they were here, together. Not since the betrothal ceremony, actually, if I am recalling correctly. Lord Yagami would have known it would be a slight to the king to not escort his wife to such a formal summoning of the council."

"I know," agreed Jyou begrudgingly. "But it does not make it any easier. I fear he will not control himself around her."

"We will just have to keep a closer eye on him. And on her."

"Daisuke confirmed that the rumors of the lord and lady's unhappiness are true. The men on the ship never saw either enter the other's room the entire journey."

"Everyone knows they hate each other."

"Hm," said Jyou, half paying attention.

Takeru raised an eyebrow. "You think it's a pretense?"

"Well," Jyou paused carefully, "the rumors began nearly right after the wedding, and persisted in the four years since without much interruption. And Daisuke's own men-our men-are witness to the disdain they have for each other."

"But…?" prompted Takeru.

"But at the same time, it would be quite feasible to establish an arrangement like that to distract prying eyes and eager ears."

Takeru's voice lowered with dread as he completed Jyou's thoughts, "Making it easier to tempt the king over the one who should have been his."

Jyou nodded.

"It's an interesting theory," admitted Takeru with reluctance.

"And all the more reason to keep them separate from each other."

"He is already demanding to see her."

"That is the demons of his addition speaking, not the real Yamato."

"The real Yamato loved her just as much, if not more."

Jyou was quiet, head bowed.

Takeru sighed, "I do not understand it. The Yagamis would often come to visit us as children. We were friends, or at least fond acquaintances. He's served my father loyally for years, and Yamato as well. His diplomatic missions on behalf of the kingdom are regularly met with success. Do you really believe he is capable of mutiny, of treason? That he is the man behind this rumored rebellion leader, 'The Second Hand' as those traitors call him? Do you really believe Lord Yagami, heir to one of our longest serving noble families, would lure his childhood friend into a trap like this, using his own wife, and taking this kingdom down with him? For what reason? We have always treated his family fairly, haven't we?"

Jyou shrugged his broad shoulders, leaning back in his chair and staring thoughtfully at the ceiling. "It is often those who we least suspect to betray us who do in the end."

Takeru thought of Hikari, her smiling brown eyes and sweet face. "I still cannot believe it," he whispered, uncertain even as he spoke.

Jyou spoke softly, "We are a nation at the brink of civil war, Your Highness. We cannot trust anyone."

Takeru knew the learned secretary was right, but his heart remained troubled. As childish as it was, he wanted so much to return to the better times, the times when Yamato smiled freely and easily, when the Yagamis and the Ichijojis, the Inoues and the Hidas, and even the now exiled Takenouchis were still loyal constituents to the Ishida kingdom, when peace governed now tumultuous lands, when friends one made as youths remained trustworthy even as mature adults.

But this was not how politics was played, and this was not the path to power, or the struggle to gain and keep control.

But this was the reality of an already fractured system, one of civil unrest and inequality, and the riots of the southern isles were only the beginnings of what Takeru and Jyou had feared. When Daisuke's contact in the Yagami's military contingent had revealed that Taichi had made several trips to the border of the southern isles, Jyou had been quick to fear the worst, but Takeru had resisted. There was no proof of any betrayal at that length, to assume that Taichi would have a hand in aiding the rebels that had taken over pockets of the south.

But Jyou's cynicism was hard to ignore, and perhaps the greatest proof was none at all.

It was the major reason Jyou and Takeru had decided to call the council together, to have all the lords facing the king and his advisors in one room, contained for the fortnight in this solitary castle. They were here to answer questions and lay a counterattack to the rebellion, including this long-fabled 'Second Hand,' a pseudonym given on account of the secret code used in the letters that communicated instructions from the leader to the rebel followers.

If Jyou had never tracked down the Baron Takenouchi, a recipient of several letters, they would have never realized how far into the king's own administration this anonymous leader had burrowed.

Now they had to find this traitorous 'Second Hand' and stop him, ending this rebellion, before the civil war that Jyou predicted truly came to violent fruition.

Takeru's stomach turned in fear at these thoughts. Maybe Yamato was right. Maybe he would be the king to see everything burn down.

But who would be the one to save it?


	4. Mimi

**The Second Hand**

* * *

**Summary**: A warning from the most unlikely places begins to unravel pasts he never knew she had.

* * *

It had been a frustrating trip so far, and the inconveniences only seemed to pile on one after another. The worst of these offense, by far, were the rooms prepared for them. When Mimi heard that only one suite would be provided, she considered it the surest sign she had received that nothing good could come from the next two weeks.

She had avoided sleep that first night easily enough, as they had arrived at the harbor deep into the late hours of the new day, much as Lord Ichijoji had that morning. In fact, this was the reason Mimi was the first to hear the last member of the council arrive, and for once, her curiosity stilled any instinctive complaints she might have made about the noise of their procession disturbing her quiet grumblings.

As soon as she heard the calls, she rose from the writing desk and went to the window, pressing her face to the glass. The clouds had rumbled in darkly since dawn, but there was enough light now to make out the party that slowly moved up the large stone pathway to the castle. Her window overlooked this entrance, giving her an unobstructed view of the area just ahead of the castle doors themselves. Among the assembled group of people waiting to receive the western lord, Mimi could identify the figures of the the king's secretary, a tall and gangly man with short dark hair; the prince, forming a striking fair complexion with bright blond hair in the middle of a gray winter; and her husband, standing silently behind the first two men, motionless.

Mimi's gaze rested on the Lord Yagami, cautious but curious.

But then she glimpsed the colors of the western lord's banners, approaching behind the flag that waved the king's own colors, and she abandoned her musings, eagerly pressing her face even closer to the window.

Finally she caught sight of the person she was most curious to see, the sister-in-law she had never met.

The young woman was riding on her own horse, of which Mimi wasn't sure if she admired or disapproved, especially as their covered caravans were following closely behind the lady. But she appeared comfortable on her white mare, if not confident, as though travelling on horseback was the only way a noblewoman could travel.

Beside her, not in front or behind, but next to her, closely, rode the western lord, his sleek long dark hair moving slightly in the wind. Mimi thought he was smiling, but it was too difficult to discern facial expressions from where she spied on the party. He did appear smaller, even scrawnier, than the other men on the council. Mimi was startled by this, having known that the lord's older brother had cut quite an intimidating figure of strength before he had died in battle years before. She would not have believed the two men could have been related, and she was curious about this lord's youthful appearances. He was not intimidating, but pale and frail, like his wife. Together they made a couple that seemed wholly out of place in the unforgiving winter terrain, or even the other assembled and weathered council leaders and members of the court.

Mimi watched as the party passed under the stone arch, reemerging on the other side of the castle's gateway. It was here that the lord dismounted his horse, then moved immediately to his wife and helped her to the ground. Two of the king's servants attended to the horses as the couple approached the prince, who had stepped forward and bowed respectfully. He was saying some greeting now, accompanied by the king's secretary, who was gesturing into the castle.

Taichi hadn't moved yet, lingering in the background almost awkwardly, stiff and uncomfortable. His head was turned in the direction of his younger sister, who was respectfully keeping her attention on the prince's conversation.

And then they were all retreating back into the castle, the prince striding confidently alongside the Lord Ichijoji, the secretary behind them, and the Lord Yagami alone at the rear with the young lady.

Away from the others, there was a small pause as the siblings looked at each other.

Then Mimi saw the woman throw her arms around his neck, and he pulled her into a warm embrace that suddenly seemed so emotional and familial that Mimi stepped back from the window, feeling as though she had intruded on something too private for her eyes. She hesitated, then glanced out the window again, but the pair had disappeared, likely have returned to the rest of the members in their group.

Mimi walked back to her writing desk and sat down, staring at the paper and quill.

She had never met Yagami Hikari.

When she was barely of age, the girl had been sent to live with the Ichijoji noble household, completing the betrothal oath that had been in place since her birth. Only a few months after that did the previous Lord Yagami pass away, and Mimi had heard that his only daughter had been so shaken by the unexpected news that she had not be in suitable health to return for the mourning services. Her illness continued for several more months, as though the western air had infected her eastern composure for the worse.

The newly knighted Lord Yagami, still a young man himself, was able to visit her only once, on the way back from the ceremony for his new title at this same castle, the same ceremony where he had been hastily engaged to Mimi herself. The arrangements were made quickly and without much notice for either one, but within days of his departure home to the eastern moors, Mimi was sent to follow, accompanied by a small group of maidservants who included the youngest daughter of the Inoue house. Mimi had formed a friendship with the young girl, who, born to an old family that had lost much of their wealth in recent times, was nonetheless a stranger to the east like herself. Mimi did not know anyone else, and indeed would not even meet Taichi face to face until the evening of their wedding. Even that night, she remembered, they barely spoke, and she couldn't stop crying.

His sister had not attended the small and rushed wedding ceremony on account of ill health, and in the years since she had not been to visit as Taichi was often away himself. Mimi had been taken up the task of managing whatever affairs of the estate were left behind during these travels, until her husband's new secretary, who had joined the household about fourteen months after the marriage, took over a majority of the domestic work. Mimi had protested: not only had she been dismissed from performing the tasks that she had successfully developed herself, but she now also had to deal with the man's barely disguised dislike for her.

Of course, Lord Yagami had sided with the secretary.

Mimi still resented this.

She blamed Koushiro for changing the tone of their household with his arrival. Before he came, Taichi would speak to her. Their conversations had not exactly held any particular attachment or emotion, but they had been polite and respectful inquiries of each other's lives. At least a handful of times, especially as her management oversaw an increase in profits from their trade agreements, he had asked her opinions on the state of their lands. Though she could not see him as her marital partner, and he had never demonstrated any physical interest in her, she had wondered in those early, easier times if they could have been friends. She was certain they had been on the verge of some kind of a familiar rapport, but then _he _came.

After Koushiro arrived and took control of the lord's affairs, Mimi had lost access to her husband completely. That was when his trips had gone on for more than one season's time, becoming longer and longer. His demeanor changed, or at least become more distant, and whatever relationship they could have had was no longer a realistic possibility. Mimi maintained to herself that as long as Koushiro was a trusted confidante of her husband's, she would remain an unwanted accessory to his image.

They had played this reputation game in public whenever the eastern lord had to attend an official or national function, until even that became the kind of engagements Koushiro began declining on behalf of the household. In recent years, Mimi left their estate rarely and had begun to preoccupy herself with other distractions, attempting to make the most of her suffocating domestic life, until, of course, the council had been summoned for the first time since they had wed.

As much as she had complained about the inconvenience, Mimi knew this would be her chance to have time away from the dreary boredom of eastern moors and experience a real assembled court, to engage with people and have some excitement. She had already made plans to travel into the city in the coming days. And she had likewise made sure Koushiro had no knowledge of her plans. If he found a way to take even her excursions from her, she knew she would not respond quietly to his self-righteous arrogance.

She was going to get her way this time.

She _had_ to get her way.

She couldn't stay in the castle alone, not with the king so close by. She had to keep her distance without arousing suspicion, and the only person who would accept her discretion was Willis. He was the only one she could trust. He was the only one who really knew her.

The door opened without warning then, and her husband entered. He looked relaxed, his expression contemplative but not the distant way she was used to seeing. But then his gaze met hers, and the walls went up, for the both of them.

"Good morning," he said.

She nodded, looking down at her desk and moving the papers around, simply to listen the rustling of their sounds instead of the awkward and distrustful silences that marked their conversations, or lack thereof.

He seemed to linger at the door, unsure of himself.

"There is a gift for you, from His Majesty."

Mimi turned so sharply she almost pierced her palm with the point of her quill, spilling ink on her fingers. "A gift?" she repeated, voice rising.

Taichi stared appraisingly at her at that response, and her face burned. As she always became when flustered or embarrassed, she grew angry and defensive. "Well, what is it?"

"He has sent tailors to fit a new gown for the welcome feast this evening."

Mimi felt her heart thumping in her chest. "I do not want a new gown. I have brought my own."

Taichi said coolly, "I do not think it is wise to turn down the king's generosity."

"I said, I do not want the gift," and she spat out the last word with a touch of fear.

But Taichi did not hear her underlying desperation. He only saw the insolence of his discourteous wife, and whatever good mood he had been enjoying at finally reuniting with his sister evaporated in the presence of this infuriating woman.

Taichi crossed over to the armoire that stood against the third wall of their bedroom suite, yanking open the heavy oak doors carelessly. He pulled the shimmering purple gown and in the next moment had flung the dress at her. It crumpled to the ground at her feet. "You will wear it," he said with finality. "You can disrespect me for all it pleases you, as it so often seems it does, but you will not dishonor the king. Not here."

She stared at the dress. It was beautifully embroidered in a luscious gold thread and encrusted with glowing jewels at the slender cuffs. A stunning costume, the gown was made of extravagant material in an unusually rich shade of purple, impeccably hand tailored for what Mimi was certain had been months. The realization of that made her stomach clench. _Months. _

There was a polite knock on the suite's door, and Taichi moved to answer gruffly. Two servants appeared there, sent to ready the lady for the day's engagements. Taichi acquiesced wordlessly, stepping back to allow the young girls into the room. He glanced back at his wife, and for the briefest of moments felt his frustration still. She was bent over the desk, leaning back in her chair as though physically trying to pull away from the dress that lay on the floor, which the servants were now exclaiming over and hastily picking up. But Mimi did not answer their excited murmurings. Her eyes were full of tears.

Taichi stopped, his hand on the door.

One of the maidservants scurried towards him, gesturing nervously for privacy to assist the lady in her preparations for the feast. Mimi heard the girl sputtering to her husband and almost seemed surprised to see he was still in the room, lost in her own worries.

She glared at him through her shining, watery eyes, trembling lips pressed tight.

Taichi said nothing, exiting into the corridors as the maidservant shut the door behind him.

Before him stood Sir Willis, whose arm remained outstretched, reaching for the door that had just closed. He immediately put his hand down, clasping both arms to his side and bowing shortly, heels together. "My Lord," he greeted.

Taichi studied the man closely.

No one could say the man was not a skilled soldier, and he was certainly admired among his fellow men. Since Koushiro had hired him just over one year ago, the knight had proven himself a valuable and well-trained asset to the estate's standing defense. Koushiro had said that the young man hailed from a village in the north, accounting for the fair skin and blue eyes that were common among the people of that area of the kingdom. He shared this with the old Hida and Ishida families, who had governed the region for over a century. But as far as anyone knew, Willis had no other family. He was a solitary figure with a charming personality, the kind that distracted its audience from remembering the fact that no matter how silver tongued the man was, he never spoke of his personal life.

That was the reason why Koushiro had said the knight's relations with the Lady Mimi was inconsequential. He was discreet and courteous, and they needed that silent loyalty on their side. But Taichi knew there was another reason Koushiro had paid the dalliance no mind. Even the most private men could let their secrets out for the love of a woman, and the love of a woman was a powerful tether of allegiance. If there was one man whose secrets Taichi was curious about in his own household, one man who he wanted to keep guardedly close, it was the knight from the north.

Then Willis spoke. "How is Master Izumi?" he asked politely.

"Recovering. He did not take the travel well." Taichi paused, then added with care, "It seems he is unable to move beyond a sudden onset of headaches."

Willis frowned sympathetically. "That is unfortunate."

Taichi glanced back at the door to the suite, behind which he could hear the servants' soft voices chattering indistinctly to the lady. He imagined her still slouching in the chair at her desk, holding back emotions Taichi hadn't seen from her since that first night over four years ago. He could not understand what had brought about such an outburst, but he could not allow something else to distract and draw out similar unpredictability in public, not here, not now.

Impulsively, he made a decision. "Sir Willis?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Given Master Izumi's poor health, he will not be able to coordinate administration of our estate as easily as he could have if he were well. I would like you to return to the moors and oversee the business, executing his directives on my behalf."

Willis did not react at once, blue eyes narrowing ever so slightly. Taichi was struck with the very real conviction that they were in a stalemate of headstrong wills, and suddenly he realized he did not like the knight at all.

Then the man nodded and bowed again. "As you wish, my lord."

"You will leave at once," Taichi added.

Willis agreed with only the slightest hint of a smile. Taichi saw the flicker of amusement just as it disappeared, and his bad mood worsened.

The knight bent his head respectfully, as though he sensed the change in his master's temperament. "Of course, my lord. There will be no delay."

"Fine," said Taichi, who was already turning away when Willis suddenly called after him:

"She is more than you know."

Taichi stopped, eyes narrowed and flashing. But the knight remained calm, undeterred. His ability to appear unfazed by unexpected news or unwelcome responses irritated Taichi more than he could stand, and his undefined dislike for the man only grew. "What does that mean?" he snapped, hating the idea that he had to ask the knight for an explanation of anything at all.

Willis nodded at the door to the suite, as though Taichi hadn't understood that he was referring to the Lady Mimi. "She is more than you know, and it seems to me you are the only one who can't see it."

Taichi opened his mouth to respond, but found that he couldn't, stunned by the brashness of this conversation.

And then Willis paused before adding softly, in a voice that sounded less like a smug taunt than an almost pleading warning, "But the king sees it, my lord, and if I were you, I would keep them away from each other. There is a danger to that man we know nothing of, and we cannot let it touch her. Not again."


	5. Hikari

**The Second Hand**

* * *

**Summary**: A welcome feast brings unwelcome warnings.

* * *

As the couple took their seat after a delayed, applauded entrance into the great hall, Lord Ichijoji placed a warm hand over the Lady's and leaned across her to whisper, "Are you all right?"

"Yes," she promised with a smile. "Are you?"

Ken squeezed her hand as a response, then stood in respect as the procession rose in volume. Hikari pulled her shawl closer around her shoulders and quickly rose as well, falling into a deep curtsey as the king made his way through the hall to the raised table at the front of the room.

King Ishida was followed by his brother, the prince, who was smiling far more generously than the kingdom's ruler. Hikari stole a glance up to see that Yamato's blue eyes were still glazed, that he walked deliberately though slowly, and at one point almost seemed to come to a full stop. It was not lost on her where he had paused, until his brother put a hand on his shoulder and he continued his procession with a raised chin. Her own gaze lingered on the spot, meeting the eyes of her own brother.

Taichi's expression softened, and she smiled back at him.

"You should go to him," said Ken after a little while into the feast, when he saw her looking over across the room at her brother for the umpteenth time. But he was not cross about her distraction; he could never be cross with her. He spoke with the friendly kindness that Hikari had always treasured in him, and was grateful for even now.

"I will," she said, raising her voice over the music that sounded from the court's processional band, "after a little while."

"Take advantage of the time you have together," said the young lord wisely.

Hikari paused, thinking of the loss her husband's household had recently suffered. Even though it had been more than a few years now, the pain of Osamu's death was hard for Ken, she knew. She could not imagine being in the same place.

The music turned towards a more common rhythm, and the members of the court began assembling in groups and pairs in the center of the room. Hikari looked again at Taichi, but was surprised to see that he was standing now, pushing his chair back and wiping his mouth with a napkin. She saw him hold out a hand to his wife, who seemed just as startled by his reaction to the music.

Mimi, for her part, remained seated and stared into his face, lips parted slightly. Her hair had been pulled back delicately into ringlets, allowing the full beauty of her face to shine through long lashes, painted red lips, and cheeks colored in rouge. The castle's maidservants had dressed her with elegance, and the deep purple of the king's gown was earning her numerous admirers. She had done her best to ignore the attention until now, having kept her burning face downcast when the king had lingered near her seat at the earlier procession. If she could have her way, she would stay seated the entire feast, eating little on this lack of appetite and discomfort, and retire to their guest suite as soon as it was acceptable to leave.

But now, Taichi was gesturing at her, and she was speechless. "Come, a dance," he said lowly, and his gaze flickered to the king's table.

Mimi stole a look as well, only to be met with the blue piercing eyes of the young ruler himself. The king was staring at their table, even as those seated beside him spoke as though they did not notice where his attention was so carefully focused.

Her face warm, Mimi placed her small hand in her husband's calloused palm as he helped her to her feet. The musicians saw their approach and immediately straightened. The increasing volume with which they played only stirred the merriment in the room, as other patrons made way for the Lord and Lady from the East, the chatter of the crowd growing as they moved to the center. Mimi knew she was still blushing, and she didn't dare steal another glance at the king's table.

They fell into the steps of familiar dance and song, joining the others in the middle of the room with coordinated steps, turns, and curtseys that Mimi had known since her childhood. In spite of herself, she found she was smiling when her eyes caught those of the fellow dinner guests, who were enthusiastic and full of cheer about the evening's activity. At least once, she caught sight of Lady Hikari, who waved happily from her seat, and actually returned the smile.

But each time she felt herself become a little more cheerful, she would find herself back in front of her husband, whose scowl seemed to be permanently etched into his face. She was instantly reminded of why she despised attending official functions with him, especially on celebratory occasions. He never smiled.

Or, at least, he never seemed to smile around her.

After another lively dance, the music changed and slowed to a moderate tempo, and the guests abandoned the group sequences for private paired dances. Mimi instinctively stepped away, already turning back to their table, when suddenly Taichi pulled her into his arms, his hands settling comfortably into the small of her back.

His fingers brushed the skin of her back, where the scooped neck of the fabric exposed the soft skin under her shoulder blades, she flinched.

A confusing wave of discomfort and exhilaration swept through her.

"It's too hot in here," she said suddenly and pushed him back.

Before he could open his mouth she had left him, aiming straight for the large doors that opened into an enclosed garden terrace. The evening air was cold, a clear winter sky spread above her like the darkest canvas, pinpricked with hundreds of stars. She could see her breath form in front of her, the whispering wind piercing through her thick gowns and burying into her bones. She hugged her arms around her chest, shoulders hunched, and walked away from the doorway and into the garden. Finding a small stone bench tucked between a large basin, its water frozen, and a plotted garden square, Mimi sat down and stared up at the castle walls looming before her.

The most important lesson her father had taught her was discernment and restraint. She had not always succeeded in these virtues as well as the famed Tachikawa Keisuke. Her father had always said she had inherited too much of her mother's spirited temper, and that had led her to a streak of impulsive behaviors, especially when faced with unexpected inconveniences or frustrations. But she did her best to quell this habit when it really mattered, and now she took advantage of this solitary moment in the evening to contemplate her father's example and steel her resolve.

She closed her eyes and breathed in the wintery air, wishing Willis was here, dreading the night that lay before her still, and thinking of her father with a longing that tore her heart in two.

She concentrated on remembering the fine lines of his face, fists clenched in her lap, trying to understand the last words her father had spoken to her before she had left for east.

"Are you all right?"

The Lady Hikari was peering at her from around the large stone basin, a smile of concern on her small, oval-shaped face.

Mimi quickly rose to her feet, face flushed. "My lady—,"

"Oh, please sit," said Hikari, waving her formality aside. "We are family. You need not be so formal with family."

The older woman took her seat again, cautious, while the younger approached her, wrapping the thick shawl around her shoulders as she took a seat on the bench. "I do not blame you for wanting a moment's peace, though. I must confess I am not used to such a crowd myself. Ken keeps a very small court, and we never have such extravagances. Even this gown is out of the ordinary for me." She gestured at her delicately embroidered costume, the rich silk fitting her slender features with a regal formality.

Mimi smiled. "You look very lovely."

"As do you," said Hikari kindly.

She hesitated, unsure of how to behave in front of her sister-in-law. This was their first conversation alone, though they had exchanged formal greetings during their own entrance into the council's welcoming feast before taking their respective seats. Mimi had remained courteous though quiet in the exchange, while Hikari had beamed at her with a king of welcoming kindness that Mimi had not associated with the Yagami family until then. That was the moment when Mimi suspected there was more to this family she had now married into than she had previously thought, though it would be natural for her luck that the one Yagami member who showed her a friendly persona would be the one who was the farthest away.

Still, the woman was gentle enough, perhaps even too sweet for Mimi's comfort. She felt as though she did not deserve to be sharing the pretense of polite conversation with such an innocently tender soul, or at least she could not abide by the feelings of guilt that suddenly seemed to resurrect themselves whenever she had to speak to the younger woman. It struck her even more now how different the two siblings were. It made her wonder if Taichi had always been closed off, and how he had come to be this way, if he had grown up with a sister as transparently kind as her.

Hikari almost seemed to sense her train of thought, for Mimi was startled out of her musings with the sudden realization that the young lady was speaking, and speaking of her brother.

"You are a very good dancer, much better than anyone I know. Even Taichi enjoyed himself, and that is certainly no small feat."

Mimi was even more startled by this. "Is it?" she stammered out at last, feigning cautious humility.

"Oh, I know he is not the sort of person who shares candidly about his feelings," continued Hikari cheerfully, making what Mimi privately thought was the most significant understatement she had ever heard. "But I can still read him well."

Mimi wanted to point out that it had been years since Hikari had even been in the same city as her brother, and that perhaps her confidence in the man rested more in treasured childhood memories than in stark reality. Everyone behaved differently as children, more carefree and without worry, and as they aged, so would even the most cheerful personalities, to some degree. But she knew how closely people clung to the better, wistful times of their past, like a comforting tonic, and she could not bear to break this woman's idyllic belief of her family.

"I do have one request," said Hikari suddenly, her voice soft.

"Of course."

The younger woman leaned in a little closer, as though sharing a deep secret. "Take care of him."

Mimi said nothing, certain for a moment that she had misheard.

But Hikari added, "He is not as strong as he thinks he appears to be. I know he has grown more guarded over the years, but it is only a pretense. He still lets his emotions drive too much of his actions, he always has, and I cannot help but worry what will happen when he goes too far."

Mimi blinked several times, staring at her hands. "We often let our passions cloud our judgments."

Hikari placed one of her hands over Mimi's own. Hers were warm and soft, and suddenly Mimi felt shamed by the coldness in her own. But Hikari only squeezed her hand sympathetically. "I am grateful he has you."

She pulled back immediately, murmuring a vague protest about the sudden wind that passed through the enclosed gardens, as an excuse for taking her hand away. Hikari replied that it was getting cold, her voice as honest as it had always been, and if she saw the way Mimi was blinking rapidly with a beet-red face, she said nothing about it. Instead, she stood up and gestured back to the great hall. "Shall we go together?"

There was a cough, and both women looked up to see one of the king's guards standing a few feet away, his face impassive. "His Majesty requests to speak with the Lady Mimi."

Mimi's heart dropped, and she swallowed thickly.

Hikari quickly made her exit, and on the way she passed the king himself. His eyes were wide open, their blue color no longer glazed but piercing through the dark evening, bright. He was walking quickly with a clear determination, as though he had a purpose now when he hadn't one before, but Hikari did not linger to see the meeting. Instead, she re-entered the great hall to the sounds of the musicians resuming a rousing tune and the court members chattering happily. She passed by the crowds with polite smiles, her smile only widening when she found the person she had been looking for seated at his table, glaring about the room.

"You always have such a sour look on your face at parties," Hikari told her brother.

Taichi took her hand in his protectively, kissing her fingers. "You are too cold. Were you outside? Where is Ken?" He was already looking about the room, dark eyes sweeping through a sea of faces.

"He had to speak with His Highness Prince Takeru," explained his sister. "It appears they have taken quite a liking to one another."

"Or the royal family sees potential in becoming allies."

Hikari tilted her to the side, her thin mouse brown hair falling into her teasing eyes. "There is such a thing as a non-political relationship."

"Not for this kingdom," murmured Taichi. He still held his sister's hand tightly in his own, as though letting go would mean another long-term separation.

She patted his arm in reassurance. "I would like to see you enjoy yourself sometimes."

"You're here. That is all I need." Here, Taichi paused to look at his sister, appraising her with a softer expression than he usually held. "You do look well."

"I feel well. Much better than before," she added. "It took some time to become accustomed to the weather in the west. It is so different than the climate at home."

"You must visit more, or even once," he added as an afterthought. "But I am not sure traveling for so long would be wise. There should be new roads worked for quicker travel between our cities."

Hikari smiled gently at his concern, patiently pointing out, "I am not as fearful of small spaces as I once was. I was only a child then."

"It was my fault. I should have been paying attention."

"It was an accident, Taichi. Accidents happen whether we are careful about our actions or not." She leaned into him, lowering her voice. "You must not hold His Majesty to blame for the mistakes of children."

But her brother was not the sort to let go of wrongs and faults so easily.

He looked instinctively at the high table, but to his surprise, the king was not there. Startled, he cursed himself for being distracted from keeping his guarded watch of the young ruler, peering into the crowd with narrowed eyes. He saw his brother-in-law speaking to the elderly Lord Hida, and the clean shaven Lord Inoue drinking from a large goblet of wine and nodding in agreement with a speech the young prince was making. Taichi recognized a few other members of the assembled court, but he did not see the king or the king's secretary, nor, he noted with growing alarm, his wife.

He straightened in his chair, Willis' warning echoing through his head. She had stepped away so suddenly Taichi had made note of the embarrassed look on her face, but he thought better than to go after her at that time. Instead, he had returned to his seat and summoned one of the servants to pour him more drink, taking advantage of the time away from keeping an eye on her, to watching the members of the king's court. Koushiro had advised him to keep a close watch on the king's secretary, and Taichi had been doing so, tracking the man's movements as he floated around the great hall. The Master Kido had not indicated anything off color or secretive in his actions, but in the moments he had spent talking to his sister, Taichi had momentarily let his gaze turn away from the man, and now he saw he was gone.

Taichi stood up, lifting his neck to peer across the hall.

"Who are you searching for?" asked Hikari, who had let go of her brother's hand when he rose from the chair.

"Lady Mimi," he answered distractedly.

Hikari hid a smile at the formal way he addressed his wife, and nodded at the doors to the terrace. "I saw her take a moment outside. Actually, I had just come from speaking to her."

He remembered her cold hands. "Is she still there?"

"I think so, but His Majesty is with her now—,"

Taichi immediately pushed his chair back. "Stay with Ken," he told her in a firm voice.

"But Taichi—," she tried to protest, but he had already descended the small platform where the tables were placed and disappeared into dancing crowd. She leaned over the table and strained to keep her eyes on the back of his head, his tall frame slipping between the people gathered in the center of the room. She watched him push his way easily to the entrance of the garden, where he was momentarily stopped by a member of the king's guard, who were guarding the doors.

Hikari turned away, rising from her chair, and made her own way through the dancing crowds. People parted for her politely, curtseying when they recognized her. She paused for a moment where Ken was standing, and caught his gaze. He nodded at her and she turned on her heels, lifting the skirts of her gown enough to allow her to walk more quickly. She passed a few guardsmen in the corridors as she left the great hall, but she did not pay them any attention as they straightened in her presence.

Hikari did not stop her hurried journey through the castle until she reached a small room on the second landing of the northwest tower, a tiny suite that was only a short distance around the corner from where she knew her brother and his wife were granted quarter for the fortnight. If she had had the time, she would have murmured to herself in amusement at the thought of the pair being forced to share a single suite of rooms. Hikari was as aware of the rumors that chased her brother's marriage as others closer in proximity to their estate in the moors. But unlike most who believed the stories of a strained union, she held on to the conviction that her sister-in-law was a good person, and that Taichi needed a good person, more than he could or would ever understand now.

She came to a halt in front the large door of the small quarters, knocking once before pausing and knocking twice more.

Koushiro answered almost immediately, as though he had been waiting for her. His sullen eyes were more pronounced in his exhaustion, and she could see that the headaches he'd been complaining of had taken a toll on his gaunt expression. But he smiled at her wordlessly, quickly allowing her entrance into his rooms.

Hikari did not sit, and nor did her brother's long-suffering secretary.

They looked at one another for a long silent moment.

"Master Izumi, it is nice to meet you." Hikari bowed her head with respect.

"It is my pleasure alone," the young man answered.

"Well," she began softly, "I do not think we need to delay with any other formalities."

Koushiro nodded, clasping his hands behind his back. "Everything has been arranged. You have no reason to worry."

"I have every reason to worry," she corrected, gaze downcast. She was troubled, and he tried to soothe her fears.

"I promise, my lady," he said with earnest, "no harm will come to him." Then he continued with a hint of worry not for her, but for their greater cause, "He did not see you leave?"

"No," said Hikari. "I directed him to the gardens, to confront the king, just as you said."

Koushiro looked relieved, and pleased, too. "Good."

Even as she asked, she knew it was a pointless question. "Are you sure there is no other way?"

His thoughts on their plan changed to sympathy for this young woman. Koushiro looked at her and remonstrated himself for his lack of tact. He composed his expression with respect to her feelings, and said with sincerity, "I know it is difficult for you."

"He is the only family I have left," she whispered, blinking back tears. "I am afraid...he holds grudges, you see, and he never forgets," she tried to explain without revisiting her accident. She was not sure how much Koushiro knew of her family life as a small girl, or if Taichi had ever confided in his secretary the events that had caused him to sever a once promising friendship with the then future king.

In truth, there had been no fault but her own, but Taichi had never been able to see her as anything but innocent and necessary to protect, like a secret he guarded with a fierce vengeance.

"He will never know," Koushiro assured her.

"You cannot guarantee confidences, Master Izumi. Secrets have a habit of breaking free, and I know he will not forgive me for this."

But Koushiro was insistent in his own solemn way. "You must trust me."

Hikari smiled sadly and nodded. "I do. We both do."

Koushiro hesitated, then added as a warning, "You must remember, my lady, that afterwards, you cannot reach out to him. You must not seek him out, you must not look for him. If he contacts you, you cannot let anyone know, and you must not answer him. After tomorrow, everything this kingdom has ever known in recent memory will change, and we must all do what is required of us to see this country survive. Do you understand?"

Hikari nodded again, and this time she could not stop her tears from falling. She wiped her cheeks and promised that she understood, and that she would not compromise their future.

At least, she thought to herself as she made her goodbyes and returned slowly to the great hall, she could have seen and spent some time with Taichi these few hours, and in the next few, too.

In the coming months, she would hold onto these moments as strongly as she clung to the memories of their happier childhood. She had done all she could in this time to prepare herself, and those who she would be relying on from now on to protect her brother from greater harm. Even though she could not reveal the reasons why, she had counselled everyone she could without attracting unwanted attention, and all she had left was to counsel herself. She had to believe in the promise of a better, reconciled future.

If she ever lost sight of this, she would not be able to trust herself to keep her oath to their cause.

And if she lost her brother's life because of this—a real fear she harbored even despite all that Ken and Koushiro had promised her—she would never be able to live with herself.

With a deep breath, Hikari scrubbed the worry from her face and put on her usual cheerful smile, reentering the great hall and its festivities as though she had never left.

She did not notice her brother sweeping through a side door, his arm grasped tightly around Mimi's shivering shoulders, her face rubbed raw by the winter winds. The trio passed each other unknowingly, but Taichi was too distracted to pay attention to others at the moment. His hands pulled on his wife's arms so hard that she winced, struggling to keep up with his furious gait. They stormed through the same corridors that Hikari had traced secretly only moments earlier, but this time they entered the larger suite allotted to their rest for the council's summoning. A guardsman posted to their door opened the suite at once, but Taichi dismissed him.

As soon as they were inside and the door was shut behind them, Mimi wrenched herself out of his arms and began ripping the threads of her gown apart, hysterical. Taichi caught her by the wrists, "Stop—," he started to say, but she screamed back, "I want it off!"

Taichi let her go and she sank to the ground, struggling with her corset. She yanked on the delicate embroidery with such force that it ripped, spilling crushed jewels like shining stars across the floor. The sight of the damage did nothing to calm her, and she continued tearing herself out of the gown, until she sat in a thick pile of soft, lush fabric in only her underskirts.

The loss of the weight of the dress on her body made her cold and empty, and she felt the corners of her eyes prickling with frustration. She raised a shaking hand to her face, breathing hard, and in the next moment she realized what she had done, and in front of who she had done it.

Startled, she looked up and saw that Taichi had left her in the sitting room where she had collapsed in her terrified anger, surrounded by the wreckage of her now destroyed gown. Through the open doors to the interior rooms, she noticed the sudden flickering of light from the candleholders by the doorway.

As the light flooded into the darkened antechamber, she saw that he had brought her a nightgown from her travelling trunks. It was lying on the chair closest to the doors of the interior bedchamber, not laid out as carefully as it would have been if one of her handmaidens had brought her the change of clothes, but crumpled on the cushioned seat. Nonetheless, she gratefully pulled it towards her, dressing herself as though the cloth of her nightgown would return her composure. Her father would not have approved of that tirade, but her father had never known what she had endured to warrant such a response.

Taking one more moment to catch her breath, she rose to her feet and stepped into the main room.

Taichi was sitting at the writing desk, one hand resting on the tabletop, nervously twirling a long writing instrument between his fingers. He stopped when she appeared at the doors, looking at her appraisingly. She expected a demanding inquiry about the way he had found her in the garden when he came upon them, but was surprised when he asked instead, voice low and tight, as though he were retraining himself from becoming emotional, "Are you all right?"

Mimi hesitated, then shook her head. "No." She was frustrated with herself when she heard how hoarse her voice sounded.

He set the thin quill down on the table. "Are you going to tell me what happened?"

This time she did not pause. "No."

They distrusted each other still, and they both knew that was the reason she held her tongue. No matter how much concern, sincere or otherwise, he might have demonstrated in a critical moment, she only saw years of indifference when she looked at him.

She had long ago decided he would never understand her enough to be someone she trusted.

"Fine," he murmured lowly.

He stood and walked past her, keeping his distance as he did so, and closed the door to the bedroom. This time, however, he remained in front of the doors. Mimi was not sure what to do now, or what he intended to himself. She eyed him with apprehension, but he paid her no attention. Instead, he approached the cabinet where their travelling trunks had been stored and silently began to remove his attire.

Mimi gave a start, even more tense about what would come next. She opened her mouth to snap a warning at him, then stopped in mid-word when she saw the scars spread like a ruined canvas across his bare back.

"What happened to you?" was out of her mouth before she could stop herself, and to her greater surprise, he answered her.

"A fire. It was years ago," he added as though to remind her, as always, that he had had a life before their marriage, one that she knew he preferred.

Or perhaps, she realized slowly, he was only sharing with her the simple fact that they both had had to deal with tragedy and pain before their life together. Perhaps he was trying to tell her, in his own opaque way, that they had something in common, that they both bore scars they never wished to speak of again.

It was the closest either had ever come to something like empathy, and she was not sure how to understand what was happening. Confused, she stared at the spidery scars, running over tanned, muscled skin from shoulder to shoulder and down the curve of his spine. And then in the next moment, the scars were gone, covered with a pale nightshirt.

He turned to face her again, nodded at the bed. "Go on," he offered gruffly, taking a hold of the heavy armchair at the writing desk and dragging it across the room, away from the windows.

"You are…staying here?" she stammered uncertainly.

He answered, "You should not be alone."

He did elaborate, but she was struck suddenly by the fact that he was not choosing to remain here for the night for an ulterior reason. No, that was not it, she came to understand carefully as she watched him position the chair carefully in front of the now closed doorway and place his sword across his knees when he took his seat. He was here because he had concern…for her.

This was something Willis would have done for her, perhaps even her father if she had shown enough fear.

And, she knew, if theirs had been another world altogether, Yamato.

Mimi looked at her husband now with new, though guarded eyes.

She reminded herself that he hadn't slept since they had arrived to the castle, or at least he had not slept here where she had spent nearly all her time since their arrival, and probably because she had stayed here. For all she knew, he had not rested in days, not with their rushed departure from the moors so soon after he had returned from another one of his trips, and not after their most recent difficult travel and the unexpected problems that plagued them since. Now, after the events of the night that still disturbed her, she focused on the way his limbs betrayed his exhaustion, and felt an unexpected response stir within her.

She climbed into the bed awkwardly, waiting for some other hint of a conversation, but he said nothing more. She pretended to lie on her side, still and unmoving, but from the angle of her pillows she surreptitiously watched him. He was leaning back in the chair now, the flickering light from the candle on the walls behind him casting shadows on his contemplative figure. She saw the thin coat of stubble shadowing his defined jaw, his thick brows not furrowed but settled calmly, framed under untidy, soft brown hair. She saw the fine lines that made up his chiseled face, usually so hidden to her but now…now she thought she saw something else in his eyes.

She rolled over to her other side and closed her eyes, her mind racing with confusing thoughts.

Only moments later—or perhaps it was hours later, for the wax in the candle had now sunk low in its holder and the light had gone dim—she sat up, blinking the tiredness away. He was still there in the chair, his head bowed, his hands clutching the hilt of his sword in its sheath, ready.

Silently, Mimi pulled one of the blankets from the mattress, gathering the thick fabric in her arms and stumbling awkwardly from the bed. With great effort, she slung the heavy, embroidered sheets over him without ceremony. She paused, waiting for him to wake, but he did not. He slumbered on, unaware, his hair falling over his forehead as his body dropped even lower in the chair.

Just before his head hit the hard side of the armchair, she reached for him instinctively, stopping the fall with her hands holding the side of his face. He still did not wake, and she carefully arranged him as best she could in a more comfortable position, pulling the blanket around to wrap his sleeping body gently.

After another moment, she bent over him and tucked the edge of the blanket just beneath his chin.

And after yet one more moment, she gave in to a small part inside her, and let her hand brush the hair from his forehead, if only to remember how the touch of his skin had felt to her own.


	6. Yamato

**The Second Hand**

* * *

**Summary**: He was not always sure who he was trying to forget, whose cries he was desperate to put away. Perhaps it was all three.

* * *

If he closed his eyes and concentrated, Yamato could still recall his first memory.

He was standing at the door to his mother's bedroom, and he was reaching up a small, chubby hand for the doorknob, because he could hear his mother crying out and he wanted to go to her. He pulled himself up to his toes, arm outstretched as far as he could and, just as his fingers touched the cold, metal handle, he tripped over his foot and fell back. His mother became quiet when his head hit the hard floor, and the last thought in his mind was that she must have heard him, and she was going to come to him.

His mother did not come to him that day, but she did give him a brother.

He had not wanted a brother.

He wanted his mother, but the servants just smiled sadly at him when he would cry for her, wiping the tears from his round, red cheeks.

It was several months before Yamato realized he would never see his mother again, but several years before he allowed himself to love his brother and not resent Takeru for taking their mother's life for his own.

Their father had never tolerated Yamato's sullen tantrums. He said that the heir to the kingdom must accept the challenges of life with stoic determination, and not with emotional distractions. This was why he gave his oldest son many tutors, while Takeru was not required to attend as many studies. Takeru could play outside in the gardens without asking for permission first, or run through the grounds freely, or chase after their father's dogs in the kitchens. Yamato had to learn, to train, to study, and to grow up.

It was not that Yamato was jealous of his younger brother's freedom and childhood. He had grown to care deeply for Takeru and would often come to the young man's defense when the boy's carefree antics angered their overworked father. Yamato wanted Takeru to have a life that was not his, because his had been dark and difficult and unbearable, even in spite of the great honor his father repeatedly called this, the highest office in the land. But no amount of instruction or urgency had prepared Yamato for the great responsibility of being king, and he had approached his birthright with increasing dread and resistance. He never wanted this life. He was not ready, and feared he never would be.

Somehow, inexplicably it seemed to Yamato, Takeru was.

When their father died, both men's lives changed. Yet for all the training and tutoring that Yamato had endured and Takeru had not, it was the latter who gave thoughtful responses to the problems that the councilmen had detailed in the new administration, who had knowledge of the unsettling patterns in the kingdom's more restless regions, who could speak of the issues their country faced with the threat of rebellion rumbling beneath their feet. It was Takeru who thought and behaved and observed the world around him like a true ruler, while Yamato found himself shutting down under the pressure, desperate for any escape he could find.

Only Takeru and Jyou knew this.

Neither were graceless enough to allow the council or court members, and even many of the royal household's own staff, to know what their new king was really like. No one else was privy to the fits of anxiety that plagued the young ruler, the haunting he had yet to escape from in his own mind, or how much he continued to suffer from guilt and addictions in private.

Instead, they developed a system to administer in Yamato's name, to seize those rare moments of sobriety and manipulate the common relapses in discreet ways. They would counsel him before and after each public appearance, acting as the masters of the puppet he had become, until it became clear that Yamato could not even handle these appearances either. When that happened, they would write in his name, using his signatures and seals to commission decrees and military decisions.

But everything changed after the southern isles' rebellion, the Inoues' escape, and the execution of the traitorous Baron Takenouchi. It was an executive order made when Yamato had been too lost in a drunken blankness to realize that his seal had ordered the death of his father's once most trusted advisor, but both Takeru and Jyou had realized they could go no further without a sober king, the _real_ king.

The truth was, Yamato had no understanding of the life of his country. Yet after that crisis, it was no longer acceptable for him to hide behind his wise younger brother and his learned secretary. He needed to take a leading role in containing the impending civil war, and the only way to do that was to call a meeting of the king's council, a reunion that was long overdue and was now crucial to determine the best course of action after the southern rebellion.

Takeru had stayed with him the night after the feast, the night before the first of the council's meetings, and Yamato had not protested this. His fingers were craving a smoke from his pipe, his limbs trembled at being cut off from his usual routine, and he could not have controlled himself if his brother had not been there to keep his mind focused on the eve of one of the most important days of his reign.

But that was not what kept him awake all night, in a fitful and anxious stupor.

As he lay in bed, all his thoughts were lost in the look on her face in the garden. He thought of her, of the spiteful glares she had cast at him, and his heart turned to lead in an already tight chest. He hated the way she had looked at him, but her eyes were burned into his own, and he could see nothing else.

In the morning, Yamato rose when his brother awoke him, his eyes bloodshot and face gaunt. Jyou read him the procedures for the council meeting as the servants dressed him for the day and Takeru urged him to eat. But everything seemed to turn to ash in his mouth, and he felt listless. He could not shake the sense of dread that now seemed to coat his skin like wax.

He only needed to see her, only once more.

When he entered the private council chambers, the other four lords and their secretaries had already arrived. The room contained two long tables facing each other, at each of which two lords were seated. At the head of the room was the king's table, a large oval structure made of solid mahogany and adorned with writing instruments and parchment. This table faced the doors to the room, creating a u-shaped seating chart that Jyou had carefully arranged in such a way that the king's authority was confirmed at the head, while all the lords were equally balanced at their respective and respected locations at the tables.

They all rose from their chairs and bowed lowly as he passed them, trailed by the prince. Takeru approached the seat to Yamato's right, while Jyou took the empty place at the lords' table to Yamato's left, in the spot that was closest to the doors. From this position, Yamato would clearly be able to see his secretary's face and, most importantly, judge his responses from the man's expression through discreet movements.

Yamato did not sit right away. He remained standing, as did all the other members of his council.

He paused for a moment, trying to quell the waves of discomfort and uncertainty within him, and focused on his father's cold and detached professionalism. He channeled it now, and looked at Jyou, who nodded at him ever so slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching in a brief but encouraging smile.

"I, Yamato of the House Ishida, King and Ruler of the realm, have summoned the Lords of my council on this day for an assembly of truth, justice, and absolution. I pledge my loyalty to the pursuit of prosperity for all, and require that those assembled here will likewise pledge themselves to the peaceful administration of our realm."

The assembled men murmured their affirmations of the council's oath, including Takeru, who was the second to sit after his brother. Yamato let his hands rest on the table to steady his nerves, as he had last night at the feast, though he had been unable to stomach much of the food. Takeru seemed to noticed his hesitation, the way the king was staring at his long, pale and trembling fingers, and cleared his throat, bringing Yamato out of his wanderings.

"Lord Inoue, let us begin with you," he said, keeping his voice low. He looked up and met the clean-shaven man's gaze. It occurred to Yamato then that the man was really no more than a fresh-faced youth. He felt a sudden empathy for the Lord of the South, to have to encounter so much trials with such inexperience. He knew how that felt.

To his surprise, however, Lord Inoue rose, bowed, and spoke with a clear conviction.

"Your Majesty, my family is in your great debt for the protection you have allowed us in taking residence in your summer castle. It is an honor and a grace during this difficult time for our kingdom." He bowed again, and then continued in a more somber voice to explain the difficulties his soldiers had had in responding to the aftermath of the rebels' activities in the deeper south. "They seem to be confined to a certain area," he said carefully.

It was not lost on anyone in the room where the area the rebels were said to be centralizing, though no one made a point to correct the lord's word choice.

That is, no one reacted but Lord Yagami.

Taichi was sitting back in his chair with one hand on the table in front of him. His fingers were drumming the tabletop softly, and he was staring at a spot somewhere on the wall to the left of Lord Inoue's head, looking for all intents and purposes as though he were deeply invested in the conversation. But Yamato studied him now and saw that the young man was barely blinking, staring with such focus through narrowed brown eyes that it was difficult to believe his mind was truly on the proceedings before him. His hands continued their incessant drumming, but Yamato thought he was the only one who saw the slightest pause in their movements when Lord Inoue made his indirect reference to the lands that once belonged to the Takenouchi family.

So Yamato leaned forward and asked, "Lord Yagami, you are often travelling near the southern isles for business. Do you find that the activities of these traitors have spread throughout the region, perhaps into your own? The borders are quite close, are they not?"

Taichi raised his eyes, his face like a mask. He was cool and unaffected by the question, or the underlying aggression in the king's words. Instead, he affirmed his suspected loyalty with the simple statement, "The moors are yours, Your Majesty."

Yamato said nothing, but he did not break the glares the men shared now.

He remembered a time when it had not been this cold between them, when they had been children. The Yagami family would often holiday with the royal household, and the late King Ishida had intended for the lordling heir to be a companion for the future ruler.

But the two boys had not easily gotten along. They varied in personality and taste as much as they did in appearance and temperament, especially as children. Yamato had been a sullen young boy, brooding and lonely, while Taichi had had no difficulties gathering admirers. Taichi was confident and bold, handsome even as a child, and a commanding presence. He was discriminating of vices, and even at a young age held himself to a high moral standard that won him the respect of adults far wiser than him. He never seemed like he was unsure of actions, or uncertain of his choices, or unprepared for his responsibilities.

Yamato had always hated him for that.

He had tried, at times, to extend the branch of friendship. He was certain that Taichi had tried it as well, once or twice, even if they never truly seemed to be able to see eye to eye on anything. Their siblings had been the primary reasons for these failed attempts, and as the four grew older, it became clear that the late King Ishida had been thinking the same thing.

It was Yamato's father who approached Hikari's father, to speak about a marital union. It would be several years before either would be of age, but planning for a politically secure future had been the late king's clearest goal. They had come close to an arrangement when the fire happened, and in the fallout the plans were abandoned. Years later, Hikari was sent to the Ichijoji family, to the one region of the kingdom that was as far away from the royal family, from Yamato, as it was to the eastern moors that the Yagami family had long called home.

Taichi had always hated him for that, but he distrusted him even more for the fire.

Yamato had other reasons to hate his former friend, if that was what they had ever really been. And every time he laid eyes on the flash of gold on Taichi's left hand, the fury blinding him, flooding him like new life he did not know he had.

How could she possibly love him?

After everything they had been through, everything that they had survived in spite of those who had tried to keep them apart, how could she be with him?

With _him_?

His fingers curled into a tight fist around the writing quill on the table, on instinct, and he saw Takeru glance at him from the corner of his eyes. He forced himself to relax, then sat back and tried to stay focused on the conversation, which had continued on during his distractions.

Now it was the oldest of the lords, Lord Hida, who was speaking. He was an elderly man, surviving longer than his own son, who had died in battle years before. The next heir of the Hida family was the current governor's grandson, a youth even younger than Lord Inoue, though Yamato had never met the boy. Lord Hida was perhaps the most experienced of the men at the table, having served as a military officer as a young lordling, in the same way that Taichi himself was serving in both positions for the eastern provinces. After a long military career, the man retired from the service and now served exclusively in a diplomatic term, speaking with a elegance to his words that could only from years of experience.

He spoke softly and slowly. "I do not wish to disagree with the administrations' policies against negotiations with these rebels, but it is clear to me that the military retaliation we enacted against them was not enough. Violence will only fuel their anger, Your Majesty. There must be another avenue to explore."

"But do they deserve such graces?" countered Lord Inoue.

"They are still constituents of this kingdom," said Lord Ichijoji, speaking for the first time.

"No, they are terrorists." Lord Inoue sounded frustrated and angry, showing the emotional trials he had endured in his home, the home that he had since lost control of and meaning in.

Lord Hida said gently, "I understand your feelings on this matter, Lord Inoue, but we must think fairly in determining the most just action."

"The only justice that will be done is to this leader of theirs," insisted the young southern lord. "This 'Second Hand' as they call him. He is a coward to hide behind others, allowing everyone to die for his rebellious authority when he will not even show his face."

Yamato saw the way Jyou was staring at Taichi, who continued drumming his fingers, as unaffected as he always seemed to be. But Taichi did not speak, and instead looked almost bored as the conversation continued between the other three lords, while Takeru quietly observed them and Yamato occasionally spoke up to calm rising tempers whenever Lords Inoue and Hida disagreed.

They approached the noon hour sooner than he expected. The prince called order and announced the plans for the afternoon, when the council would not be meeting formally but were invited to the great hall for an evening meal. The lords all rose respectfully as the king exited the meeting rooms first, where he was met with the knights assigned to his guardianship.

Among them was Daisuke.

The captain greeted him with a warm reception, while the prince shook his hand friendlily. "How is it going in there?" the tanned man asked, eyeing the rooms behind them.

Takeru shrugged and lowered his voice. "It was only the preliminary meeting today. Very little information we did not already know or strongly suspect was confirmed, but it is clear where the alliances are among the council." He paused, "And where they are not."

Jyou had joined them at that point, looking grave and serious. He approached the king first. "Your Majesty, are you feeling well?"

"Yes," Yamato said shortly, annoyed.

Then Takeru caught his wrist, holding up his brother's hand. Yamato flexed his fingers, surprised to see the trickle of blood flowing from the creases in his palm. He remembered sharp point of the quill he had been clutching. "Oh," he said, rather stupidly. "I did not realize it."

Daisuke produced a thin yellow cloth from inside his uniform jacket and pressed it over the wound. "It is small. No reason to for concern," he added cheerfully.

But Jyou was looking very concerned, studying his king like an open book. Yamato deliberately avoided his gaze, knowing that his secretary would be able to see right through him. He could have avoided the subject altogether if, at that moment, the cause of his anger had not appeared at the doorway.

Lord Yagami seemed to pause when he saw the group assembled in the corridor, his dark brown eyes sweeping over each face as though he had not expected to see them together nor so close to the doors. Yamato suspected the former, and the look on Jyou's face told him that the secretary was thinking the same way. But for his part, Taichi gave no indication of an ulterior purpose. He paid his respects, murmuring a brief thanks to Daisuke again for helming his voyage to the castle, to which Daisuke was politely dismissive, insisting it was an honor, and asked how the lord's secretary was faring after his sudden sickness.

"I would have thought that a man who travels as often as you do by ship would choose a secretary with stronger sea legs," said Daisuke with a laugh.

Taichi did not smile. "Yes, that is the peculiar thing about it. Master Izumi has been sailing boats since he was a child. It was unexpected to see he had become so ill from such a short journey."

"Winter has its difficult weather," said Takeru with sympathy.

Lord Yagami just glanced at him, saying nothing.

Yamato thought he could cut the tension in the air with his sword, but then the next words spoken seemed to render him too numb to feel anything at all.

"Will the Lady be joining us for the evening feast, my lord?" asked Daisuke conversationally.

Taichi shook his head. "And neither will, I am afraid." He nodded his apologies to the prince. "Though we thank you for the invitation."

Takeru quickly masked his surprise. "Yes, of course."

Taichi nodded again, clasping his hands behind his back and bowing once more as he took his leave. The group watched him walk back in the direction to the guest suite he and his wife were staying, and it was only after he disappeared around a corner that Jyou spoke.

He looked directly at Daisuke. The captain had lost his cheerful expression, adopting one that was difficult for Yamato to read. "Follow them."

"Done," promised Daisuke quietly.

As he, too, disappeared into the castle's labyrinth of corridors, the remaining council members adjourned, likewise hastily greeting their king outside the doors, but Yamato was struggling to pay attention. His bloody hand was throbbing, and he could not stop shaking, even when Takeru steadied him with a hand on the back of his arm. He did not feel the comfort in his brother's hold, did not hear the words that the lords were speaking to him and over him. He only saw her face again, in the garden, that look in her eyes, and the way she had danced with another a man all night, right in front of him.

If he closed his eyes and concentrated, Yamato could still recall his worst memory.

He saw another woman, another loss, another time that he had spent waiting for the news that would break his world apart, news that could have set the course of his life on a path that his furious father had never intended.

But this time, she was the one who had been spared.

His child—_their_ child—was not.

Sometimes Yamato would dream of that unnaturally tiny and still body, its sightless hazel eyes, and hear her sobbing turn into the sounds of his mother's last breath.

In his nightmares, he always heard that sound, no matter how many times he had tried to drown out it out with smoke or drink in these years she had left him, taking everything they could have had with her and having it, instead, with _him_.

He was not always sure who he was trying to forget when he tried to escape in his addictions, whose cries he was desperate to put away. Perhaps it was all three. Sometimes he would wake in the middle of the night, overcome with terror and unable to breathe, stomach clenched with shame and sorrow, mind sober and memory relentlessly clear, and only then could he catch which voice haunted him most. Because it was only then, when he was alone, that he could admit his darkest truth: that it was not despair he felt when the sickly infant had finally passed away, but relief, relief that with this tragedy he had escaped the chance to ruin another life with his own terrible choices. The cost of this had been losing her, and he was running out ways to punish himself in his misery since that night.

And after the welcome feast, he could only face the coldest of these truths: that Mimi had never forgiven him, and never would.


End file.
